Chapter 25: Chapter 25: Weight

The transmit option for the instant coms console was buried in a confusing array of options that appeared to have little to nothing to do with communications. Some were in obvious code- CTTS and CTTN- others like mass guidance appeared to have more to do with cargo than coms. But eventually I found it.

It only took a few moments of everyone trying to talk at once before they all shut up, apparently realizing what they were doing. The belter was the first to reply.

“Unknown contact, Belter 442. It’s customary to introduce yourself over open com, son. Just who in the hell are you? And don’t you dare be pullin’ a prank on us. This is serious business. Folks are dying out here. And I will kindly ask you to show some respect.”

The voice sounded stern, practically spitting out the last words.

“My apologies Belter 442, my name is Doctor Zolnikov and I am calling from a ship docked to the space station Walker in low Earth orbit. I do not know the name of the ship-”

A more disciplined sounding voice cut me off.

“Walker, Durandal. Our records state that the DCSN Walker was infested during the final stages of the outbreak. Explain.”

“Durandal, Walker. The station is still infested. But there are survivors. Well, there are a few survivors and many more still in working stasis pods. I don’t know-”

This time the old belter interrupted me.

“Walker, Belter. Bullshit. Once a vessel or station is infested, they’re done. Nobody survives. Everybody’s either infected or dead. A few people got off Walker before the end, but most of them ended up on infected ships and died. I done told you once-”

“Belter, Mags. Let him speak. I want to know if he can help. If there’s a chance at all, I’m saying my family will take it. You know what the other choice is.”

The woman’s rebuttal was firm. As she spoke, I could hear several muffled voices in the background, but not what they were saying.

“Mags, Durandal. Do not take this step lightly. With the pods, the kids will live. Even if what Walker is saying is true, there’s a good chance you will all die. No one has survived an infested ship. Not a single person. If you set one foot on that station, or a ship from Walker comes to get you, that’s it.

“The rules are clear. No contact with any ship or person that has been in contact with an infested source. They always die. They always kill those they come into contact with. No exceptions. My apologies to you Walker, but you’re in the same situation as Maggie’s Pride.”

“Durandal, Walker. Before today, I did not know that anyone else had survived other than the two survivors I met recently. After the fall, I hid in my lab for years watching the last bits of humanity fall to the zombies. I’ve studied the infected as much as I could remotely. I’ve fought them nearly every day since I left my lab.

“A recent discovery I made may shed some light on how the zombie virus propagates. I am willing to share my research with anyone who will listen. It is not just a biological virus. The nanite infection is at the very least a large part of how it spread so far and so quickly.

“Mags, the power on Walker is slowly failing. I do not know how long it will last. Up until recently my main goal was to escape the station before that happened. Now I have two groups of people in stasis pods for now that are not infected and can be saved. With that said, what can I do to help?”

The doubting belter tried to break in, but the woman cut him off.

“Walker, Mags. We need a ship to come to us. Ideally with parts to get us going. Failing that, something big enough to get us all off the Pride before it sails out of range. Durandal, I know this puts us at odds with the rules. But I’m not going to be the one telling my grandparents they have to either starve to death or open their suits to vacuum.”

Her voice held a note of iron towards the end.

“Durandal, Mags. Understood. We will pray that you have made the right choice, even though I believe otherwise. Godspeed, Maggie’s Pride. Our intercept ship will stand down. Durandal, out.”

“Mags, Belter. I’m still not sure I trust this guy, Mags. But you do what’s best for your family. You’ll always be welcome in the Belt, no matter what Durandal says.”

“Belter, Mags. I appreciate the support, Belter. Lord willing, we’ll see you on the flip side. Walker, give it to me straight. What can you do for us? We’ll be in range within the next three days. Depending on how fast your ship is, that gives us anywhere between two days and five to match course and speed. Just how fast is your ship?”

“Mags, Walker. That I do not know for sure. I am a nanite researcher by trade. There is a better than even chance that one of the other two survivors can answer you. More than that, it is highly likely he can pilot a ship to rescue you. There are several options available on Walker, but if it isn’t the ship I am standing on now, I’ll probably have to clear it beforehand.”

“Walker, Mags. No offense Walker, but if you can put the prospective pilot on, do it. We’re in a bind over here and staring down a particularly nasty death. No spacer wants the slow death out in the deep dark.”

“Mags, Walker. I’ll have to go and get him. He’s probably in Security Medical if he’s still alive. To do that, I’ll have to make it through the horde on the docks. It’s a big one. Easily thousands strong and in the dark.”

“Walker, Mags. Fuck me sideways with a cactus Walker, that’s suicide! I thought-”

“Mags, Walker. I’ve escaped that particular horde once already. It’s safer to go over the hull. The cleared areas of Walker are few, but Headquarters is safe for now, as is Security Medical. The Security turrets still work, and that dissuades most of the zombies there. The only other airlock on this ship is broken, so that means going through the docks. Best bet would be to find an airlock close and duck outside.

I’d better get to finding a space suit and prepare. I will contact you again within three days.”

The com was silent for a few moments. Maggie’s Pride was still active, judging by the indicator on the com panel, they just weren’t talking. After almost five minutes of silence the woman’s voice finally returned.

“Walker, Mags. Damn you Walker, you’d better not get your ass killed on me. My family is counting on you. If you die on the way, I will personally haunt your sorry, misbegotten soul for the rest of eternity. And believe me you don’t want that happening. Godspeed Walker, and don’t fuck this up. Mags out.”

The coms station darkened as the active signals powered down. There were other people out there. Humanity, or at least a portion of it, survived.

And another impossible task had appeared. One I had little idea how to complete.

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The first step was to find a space suit and get off the ship. Once off the ship, somehow find a way to an airlock in the pitch dark without drawing the attention of the horde. Then get back to Security Medical and hopefully recruit the other two survivors.

If they had the skills I lacked to pilot a ship, then all we had to do was capture a ship and then perform the rescue. No pressure.

There were lots of little ships and a few bigger ones on the docks. Surely one of those would be good enough to make the trip.

There were too many variables to make accurate assumptions. I arrived back in the main cargo hold and passed the decaying remains of the giant that had attacked me.

The incredible pain that had accompanied draining it was gone. My back still ached, but the bruising seemed to have faded more than I expected. My left arm still had a purple bruise where it had struck the hatch frame, but I could use it. There hadn’t been time to investigate what actually happened yet, but so far I seemed to be okay other than some nanite bloat. By now that was starting to feel somewhat normal though.

Inside the workshop was complete chaos, save for a line of workbenches along one wall that had miraculously survived unscathed. Smashed tools and workbenches lay in drifts like leaves in the fall. I searched through the piles and the nest for a complete suit but it rapidly became clear that such a thing was not to be had.

There were parts of suits, though. Several intact leg pieces and boots came from the nest. The torso, neck ring, and groin were all one unit and large enough that nearly every one I found was smashed. I lifted a workbench to clear one of the bigger piles and found one at last. It was a little small, but I could get into it. Probably.

Gloves were everywhere. Even gloves in my size. I grabbed multiples in case some of them had hidden defects. Helmets were standardized, so even with four out of every five being cracked, dented, or smashed flat I found two reasonably intact ones.

Proper assembly required something called a nanotorch. As far as I knew, that was just a fancy tool for bonding two substances together without the use of glue. One look around the room was enough to convince me that there were no intact nanotorches. Such devices were delicate and temperamental at best, from my experience with lab equipment.

But I wasn’t a nanite researcher for nothing. I had a power source nearby and my own colony could do the job, albeit slower. But with my nanite senses I could do it right the first time. And for once, I could accomplish something without endless irritating obstructions.

I carted the pieces over to engineering and got to work. With a little juggling, I could keep one hand on the console while the other held two pieces together.

Siphoning power from the source made the bonding process almost laughably easy compared to how I had been using my nanites recently. The process consumed a small portion of my colony as I went, melding the two different pieces together seamlessly. It was actually kind of fun.

I hadn’t such simple manual labor in over a decade. The simple pleasure of completing a task with a visible result in the real world was something I hadn’t known I was missing. I still loved my research. But maybe there would be time for a hobby someday. I’d never really had one before.

The completed suit was bulkier than the one I’d acquired from the hidden Headquarters airlock. It felt more awkward moving around in it once I put it on. That was no surprise. A cobbled together suit form salvaged components found on a tramp freighter would not be as sleek and sophisticated as something a CEO might stash in his secret compartment.

The self diagnostic check came back with a few minor issues. The 02 charge was depleted and suit power stood at three percent. Other than that, it would hold pressure. That was all I really needed.

Well, that and some way to see in the dark. Which the helmet conveniently provided, both headlamps and low light overlays. I kept the helmet open and headed for the airlock to save power and not stress the oxygen reserves.

The still faces of the refugees greeted me as I reentered the cargo bay. There had to be hundreds of them just in this ship alone. There could be others out there. The traders and freighters connected to the docks, maybe still drifting in space, still clinging to life while the power slowly failed.

The parallels to my own situation did not escape me. Here I was trying to save one family from doom when there might be countless others under threat at this very moment. But I couldn’t just give up on them now.

I connected the suit to the charging station by the airlock controls and considered my options. The horde outside might see me, in which case I would have to flee into the dark. And they might not, in which case I could sneak away slower, but safer.

There were empty airlocks further down the docks, but that put me uncomfortably close to the horde near the largest freighter at the very end. I was hoping that the ones in the warehouse section weren’t similarly crowded with zombies.

The charging station beeped softly as it finished topping up my suit. I entered the airlock and closed my helmet, then slowly eased the exterior hatch open.

The low light overlay came up automatically and I could see into the shadows that cloaked the docks. There were zombies floating listlessly about. Some were clustered nearby, a group of seven around a stack of crates connected to some sort of freight handling equipment.

I looked back towards the warehouses and spotted a familiar sight. The implant zombie that had attacked me in the Hospital was looking back at me, unmoving. Around it were dozens of other zombies. These were also hibernating from the look of things.

The implant zombie made no moves and neither did I for a long moment. I had to get off the docks and into the warehouse. But with that many zombies on that end of the docks-

A zombie howl sounded from my left, further down the docks. It was swiftly echoed by other infected, including the group of seven closest to me.

I launched myself towards the warehouses. The unfamiliar suit slowed me down slightly, but I was feeling better than I had in days, even with the fading bruises and residual aches here and there.

The horde in front of me was just starting to react to the howls when I charged into them. The implant zombie had disappeared at some point. No doubt waiting to strike at me when I was most distracted. That thing was entirely too sneaky and smart for a zombie.

Zombies were battered aside even as they began to howl. I crashed into the first one with a fist, knocking it into three others and using the impact to twist myself over the thickest concentration of zombies. Another reached for me and I grabbed it in turn, using the imparted spin to launch myself onto a different trajectory.

One managed to grab onto me as I rebounded off the bulkheads. I used it as a shield to block another infected and drained them both as quickly as I could while jumping towards the shadowy ceiling.

The two clinging to me fell to ash in a brief flash of light, inciting more howls. I scrambled along the ceiling, using it as both a ladder and obstacle course before taking a long, risky jump towards the far bulkhead where I hoped to find an airlock.

Then my HUD’s oxygen alarm started blinking madly in my vision. The suit 02 reading still read one hundred percent. But my growing shortness of breath argued in favor of my personal sensors.

I was running out of air.

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